


Complicated

by infiniterider



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniterider/pseuds/infiniterider
Summary: Working with a new cast member brings up feelings Tom has long denied.





	1. Headed for the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple business meeting.

"I want Jeremy Renner." 

Brad and April, their casting director, looked at Tom in mild surprise. "For Brandt?" Brad asked.

"Yup. I think it works don't you? He can play vulnerable well, and we're going to need that."

"Agreed," Brad said. 

"April?" Tom asked. "Do you agree with that?"

April nodded. "I think it's a great idea. I think the only issue would be getting him to agree to the part." 

"Oh?"

"He is a rising star himself," April said. "Some people are touchy about playing supporting roles when they're in this phase. But I can-"

"Would it bother you if I talk to him?" Tom asked.

"Me?" April asked. She raised her hands. "No, no, by all means!"

Tom smiled. "Great, I'll set up a meeting. Brad, you'll be there?"

"Yup."

"Just a general, so I'll call you about it later, April. Okay?"

"Absolutely," April said. 

"Great," Tom said. Brandt had been the last point of business, so they stood up to go.

April smiled at them. "Happy hunting, boys."

Tom and Brad chuckled. "Text you the date?" 

"Yup," Brad said again. "Any time, any day except the 27th and 28th, I have that-"

"Yeah, I remember. Perfect, see you soon."

"See you, Tom."

Tom pulled out his phone as Brad left the office, and called his sister. "Yyyyyello!"

Tom snickered. "You know I hate that."

"Why do you think I do it?" she asked with a laugh. Tom laughed with her, shaking his head. "What's up?" Cass asked. "How was the meeting?"

"Productive. Cass, can you get me a meeting with Jeremy Renner? It'll be me and Bird, any time except the 27th and 28th."

"Yes, will do," she said, the playful tone completely gone while they talked business. "I'll try to have an answer in the next couple of hours."

"Thanks, Cass. See you this evening."

Tom hung up the phone, feeling good about the movie, the meeting, and the world in general, and never once thinking that a single phone call was about to ruin his life.


	2. That Loving Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has trouble handling his lunch.

Tom rubbed sweaty palms against his jeans. At first, he couldn't understand why he felt so strange. Lunch was going well. Jeremy seemed relaxed and open. He engaged in the conversation in a casual way, not overly chatty, nor overly quiet. He was dressed casually - jeans and a t-shirt, with an open button-down - almost an exact match of Tom's outfit. And Brad wore the same, but with a black sport jacket over it. There was no obvious reason for this discomfort. Tom was with a friend and an acquaintance, both of whom seemed to enjoy his company. Why did he feel this way?

It had started somewhere between checking out the menu and ordering drinks. His stomach started to feel slightly upset, and then, after the drinks came, the sweaty palms started. He hid his discomfort well, smiled and laughed and chatted with his guest and business partner without skipping a beat. But inside, he could feel himself turning into a bundle of nerves. _Why?_

It dawned on him once the appetizers had been cleared away. Brad told a story about when he and Tom had been scouting locations, and Jeremy apparently found it quite funny. He threw his head back and laughed, and the sight of his unrestrained mirth seemed to set Tom's heart pounding. He clenched his fists, and forced a smile, but his thoughts were in a whirl. _FUCK_.

"Everything okay, Tom?" Brad asked him.

"Hm? Oh yeah, fine," he said.

"Oh, thought maybe I embarrassed you with that one."

Tom waved a hand. "No way, I would have told it myself, but you tell it better." The other two men laughed, and Tom grinned at them. "I have to go, um… nature calls," he said. "If they come, big favor?" Tom pointed to an item on the menu. "Just this one, but with no onions anywhere, okay?"

"Sure, I'll handle it," Brad said.

"Sorry, I know you're not my assistant, I just-"

"Tom, come on," Brad said. "Listen, I promise not to tell the press how you _demeaned_ me by making me order your lunch," he said with a wink. "Get out of here."

Tom grinned, then nodded at Renner. "Excuse me." The younger man nodded, and Tom headed for the restroom. His body guard, who had been standing casually near the entrance to the restrooms already, stood up straighter and watched him carefully while he walked. His guard went into the men's room first, while Tom waited in the hall.

After a few moments, he came back out and nodded. "Empty."

"Thanks, Jim," Tom said. He went in, knowing that he would have the room to himself for as long as he needed. Tom went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He took a deep breath, and stared down at the water flowing down the drain. "Fuck," he whispered. His stomach churned, and he struggled to keep his food down. "Fuck fuck _fuck_ ," he hissed into the sink. "Why me? Why _now?_ "

He shut his eyes, and immediately thought about Jeremy's glowing face. The curve of his neck, the way his chest moved as he laughed. He thought about the sound of Jeremy's laughter, and his rich, distinctive voice as he told Brad "That was _hilarious!_ " In a shift so quick he almost missed it again, the pleasure/affection/arousal he felt changed to anxiety, shame and fear. 

He'd missed it at the table. Hadn't been paying attention when his mind made this automatic transition before. He'd just known he was scared, and he couldn't imagine why. Now, he knew exactly why. He'd spent years - no _decades_ trying to quell these feelings - smother them like the dangerous, all-consuming brush fire that they were. He'd tried to use the techniques from the church to control them, trying to force himself to be fully satisfied with "normal" relationships. And he was doing it! He'd succeeded in staying away from troublesome thoughts and feelings for a long time. And now they were back.

 _Fuck_. What could he do? What would the church say if this came out? Jesus, what would the _press_ say? Yes, times were different. This wasn't unacceptable in a _lot_ of places. And Tom no longer believed that it was the sick, twisted thing that it had been in his mind as a boy. There was too much evidence that it was biological. Too many loving partnerships existed that proved (to him, anyway) that it wasn't "unholy" or aberrant. No. It wasn't wrong in itself, he was convinced of that, regardless of what the church would say if they found out. 

But for an action star with a reputation like his, it was about as unacceptable as it could get short of going straight to a country where it was illegal and punishable by death. The press would have a field day if this came out, after he'd spent what seemed like the entirety of his thirties fending off accusations that he was gay. Then, on top of that, there were those who thought that suing to protect his reputation and his career was an act of homophobia in itself. He would be shredded from all sides.

Things were finally starting to get better. He was finally starting to see the dust settling after Oprah, Lauer, Shields, and basically just having an awful list of ill-timed, ill-thought out statements flying out of his mouth in a short period of time. People were finally starting to acknowledge his accomplishments without first apologizing for saying something nice about him. People were finally _not_ leading all interviews with, "so, about that time you went crazy". All that progress would be shot to hell. _Fuuuuuuuck._

Without warning, Tom threw up into the sink. Morbidly, he looked at it when he was done. Identified pieces of fried shrimp and partially digested cabbage strips. Then, with a strange sense of calm, he rinsed it away, rinsed his mouth and popped a couple of mints.

He stood up straight and looked into the mirror. His own face looked back at him, pale with red blotches here and there - signs of his distress. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He focused on his mother. Looked for the places where she had marked him - the smile, the nose, some of the shape of his face. He really looked shockingly like her, and that always pleased him. It grounded him. His mother was the one person in his life that he knew loved him unconditionally. _Absolutely_ unconditionally. She'd proven that when he confessed these things to her in his youth, and she had just held him and told him she loved him. If he decided not to try to shove this part of himself back down again, she wouldn't abandon him, even if everyone else did. 

She was also the strongest person Tom knew. If she could survive what his worthless piece of shit of a "father" had put her through, then Tom could survive being who he was. _Whatever_ that entailed.

Tom scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to bring his color back. When he felt like he didn't look like a complete wreck, he stepped out of the bathroom and smiled at his guard. "Okay."

"You alright, Tom?" Jim asked

"Yeah, fine. Do I look bad?"

Jim shrugged. "A little bit pale, but okay."

Tom smiled and tapped Jim's arm. "I'll roll with that." He went back to the table and put on his brightest smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all," Brad said. "I was just telling Jeremy a little about Dubai."

Tom smiled and took his seat. "Oh boy," he said. "Am I going to be embarrassed here?"

"I hope not," Brad said, smiling. "I haven't got to the good part yet."

Tom laughed and looked at Jeremy to see his reaction. He was smiling, looking curiously from one to the other of them. Tom's smile brightened at the sight of Jeremy's smile. His stomach twisted just a little, but instead of trying to shove away his appreciation for Jeremy's face, he worked on stuffing down the brimming anxiety instead.


	3. Willpower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom lets go of negative associations.

"So, are you going to do it?"

"Huh?" Jeremy's voice came over the line, sounding _very_ confused. "Is… is this Tom?"

"Yeah, it's me," Tom answered. "You said you needed time to think, so what did you decide? You're going to do it, right?"

Jeremy laughed, an incredulous kind of laugh. "Tom, I… I just got out of my car. We left the restaurant barely forty-five minutes ago."

"O-kay," Tom said, confused himself now. Forty-five minutes was a long time - almost a full hour.

Jeremy laughed again, and Tom felt himself smiling in response. "You know what, sure. Yeah. I'll do it."

"Great!" Tom said, grinning. "Great. You're going to have a lot of fun, man. I'll have a package out to you within the day."

"W-wha… to-today?"

"Sure!"

"Oh… okay. _Okay_ , great!"

"Nice. See you on set." Jeremy said goodbye, and the line disconnected. The moment he heard the disconnect, Tom sighed, and leaned heavily against the wall. He counted backward from twenty, focusing on the nausea, and willing it away. He knew it was psychosomatic, so he knew he could control it. After a few moments, he did, and it pleased him that it had only taken to the count of five. It had taken a countdown from 40 all the way to zero to feel better after they'd said goodbye and Jeremy had agreed to think about it.

When he felt calmer, Tom stood up and went in search of his daughter. He found her in her play room, making some kind of castle out of blocks while Janine watched. "Hey, honey!" he called.

"Daddy!" She ran to him and he swept her into his arms, smiling at Janine. 

"How have we been today, Jan," Tom asked. "Well behaved?"

"Oh yes, Tom, she's always sweet."

Tom smiled at his daughter. "That's good news," he said. "Because I remember telling someone if they were good today, they could have ice cream."

"ICE CREAM!!!" she screamed. 

Tom winced and laughed. "Okay, go downstairs and pick what you want," he said, putting her down. "I'll be right there." She ran down the hall, and Tom walked slowly after her, with Janine beside him. "When did Kate leave?" he asked.

"About an hour ago," she answered. "Beauty appointment."

"Right, I remember," he said. He grinned. "She'll be gone for three more hours, her beauty appointments are like a whole spa day." Janine laughed shyly. "I'm going to be home for the rest of the day, so if you want to take off, you can. Or you can hang around the house, swim, whatever you like. I'll probably watch a movie with her later."

"Okay, thanks, Tom," she said brightly. "Maybe I'll have a little beauty appointment myself," she said with a wink. 

Tom laughed, and trotted down to join Suri. They spent a pleasant day together, which got even better when Cass and Marian came in with the kids. They played games together, and then Tom started a movie in the projection room. 

Kate, Mary and Connor made it home in time for dinner, and they had a nice evening. Tom found himself evaluating his feelings and his physical reactions when he looked at Kate. He was almost relieved to find that he was just as attracted to her as always. He reflected, almost philosophically, that that must mean he was bisexual. It was the same difference if he got "caught", but at least it didn't mean that he no longer _wanted_ his wife. He felt like that would have upset him deeply, and he was glad he didn't have to worry about it.

That night, when he and Kate were alone, he tried to initiate a little "fun time" with her, but she refused. "It's been a long day, I just want to get some sleep." She smiled at him, and gave him a kiss. "You understand, don't you?"

"Sure," he told her. He didn't exactly understand how she could be tired after spending the day at the spa, most likely sleeping while getting full body massage and having facials and things. But he was going to respect her wishes. "I'm not tired yet," he told her. "You want company?"

"No, go ahead," she said, snuggling down into the covers.

He gave her another kiss, then went down to the movie room and chose something that wasn't geared for people ten and under. He got himself a beer and a bag of apple chips, and put in "S.W.A.T." Renner wasn't in it very much, but his appearances were powerful, and well acted. Tom could feel the anxiety returning when he watched Jeremy handle guns. His first instinct was to turn off the movie, but he knew that didn't make sense. He was going to be working with the man. He couldn't have this happening to him when he had to be on set in close quarters with Jeremy for several months.

Tom paused the film with Jeremy on the screen, and took a deep, slow breath. He called to his mind the techniques that he had used to get over his dyslexia - the same kinds of tools that he'd used to train himself out of these kinds of feelings in the first place. He did what he had done before - talked himself through the feelings of fear, anxiety and shame. Deconstructing them and attempting, now, to disassociate the fear and shame from the affection, pleasure, and appreciation of Jeremy's skills, and his physical appearance.

When he felt calmer, he pushed play again, and continued to watch. Then, the next time he felt his body reacting in a way that he didn't want, he stopped the film again and went through the same process. He evaluated his feelings, separated the negative emotions from the positive ones, and told himself again and again that there was nothing wrong with accepting his attraction to Jeremy (or any of the other men on the screen that caused the anxiety to start, for that matter). 

In the end, Tom stayed up almost all night working on this new "project". In a way, he was as eager and motivated about this as he would have been during filming. It made sense, he supposed, since technically he wouldn't be able to work efficiently if he didn't get this situation under control. He watched "12 and Holding", "Neo Ned" and "Hurt Locker", pausing to work through his feelings as often as necessary.

By the end of the night, he was mentally exhausted, but he felt wonderful at the same time. He froze the screen on a shot of Jeremy Renner, once again holding an assault weapon, and stared at it, letting his feelings just percolate and "listening" to them as they came. Pleasure - an actor doing a great job always pleased him. Affection. They'd had a good lunch, and Jeremy had agreed to be in the movie. He was a good guy. Attraction. He was strong, physically fit in this film. Tom thought it would be nice to touch the muscles on his arm, or see what he looked like without his shirt. Maybe see even more than that.

He waited, but there was nothing else. No guilt. No self recrimination. No stomach ache, no sweaty palms. Tom smiled at the image of his new coworker. _Success!_


	4. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's got lots of energy.

Tom spent much of his time alone at the beginning of filming "Ghost Protocol". He worked with the Austrian crew and his stunt coordinators on the highly complex fight scene in the Russian prison. Then there was the grueling climb training for the Burj Khalifa. But when he completed those extremely challenging aspects of his training, his schedule began to merge with the other principle members of the cast. 

The first time Tom met with the other members of Ethan's team was about three weeks into initial preparation for the film. They were at the gym, and even though Tom wasn't scheduled to work out that day, he decided to stop by and see how the others were doing. He had a few words with Paula while she worked on the elliptical, then checked in with Simon on the weight machine. Both were doing well with the rigorous training, and seemed positive so far even though they were both already drenched with sweat in the first hour of their workout.

He found Renner on the mat, working on fight moves with the lead stunt coordinator. Tom arrived while they were in the middle of toss and fall training. He stood on the sidelines and watched, while Rob bodily picked Jeremy up and tossed him down on the mat. Renner bounced slightly, then rolled and came up gracefully into a crouch position. 

"Good, that's great," Rob said. 

Jeremy smiled, and stood up. "Should we try- oh hey, Tom."

"Hey. How's it going?" Tom asked. 

"Oh, just _swell_ ," he answered, with a laugh. He took the towel that Rob passed to him, and wiped his sweaty forehead. Tom clenched his teeth, freezing the smile on his face. In person, controlling his reactions was much more difficult than it had been when he could press pause and deal with a still-life version, and he struggled to maintain his composure. "So is somebody really supposed to be tossing me like this guy did?" Jeremy asked, approaching Tom. 

He extended a hand, and Tom shook it, smiling. "You never know," he answered. Jeremy laughed, and Tom felt his stomach tighten. He knew it wasn't that nauseous feeling he'd been working to rid himself of, which was a relief. But he still had to keep tight control of his feelings of arousal, too. Accepting himself was one thing. Letting everyone on the set know he had some kind of boyish crush on Jeremy Renner was a whole different thing - something that could cost him the friendship and partnership of a good actor, and could do a hell of a lot of damage to his movie and to his reputation in general.

At the moment, Renner didn't seem to notice anything. "Well, I don't think it's fair to put me up against the tallest guy on the crew," he said with a grin.

Rob laughed and shook his head. "You're doing very well, height difference or no," he said.

"Is he?" Tom asked. 

"Oh, absolutely, Tom," Rob answered. "He's a natural."

" _Good_ ," Tom answered. "That's great."

"Checking up on me, huh?" Jeremy asked. "When do I get to watch him toss _you_ around?"

They laughed, and Tom answered, "You don't know how many times I got flipped in Austria."

"Tom's a master at this stuff," Rob said. "He could do these trainings himself if he wasn't busy producing."

"And starring, _and_ scouting," Renner added.

"Oh, okay now," Tom said, trying not to blush.

"I'm told you started training last month?" Jeremy asked. 

"Yeah, but I had something specific that I needed to do, so..."

"Right, uh-huh," Renner said, in a mock-dismissive tone. "I want to know when you ever sleep."

"He doesn't," Rob answered. Tom gave him a look, and the trainer shrugged and held his hands up. "Just saying."

"I sleep," he argued. "I sleep plenty."

Renner laughed at Rob's dubious expression. "Well, you're probably going to seem like that girl from 'The Ring' to me," he said. "I can sleep anywhere, and I _do_."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I mean _anywhere_ , at the drop of a hat. It's my superpower." Tom laughed. "No joke," Renner said smiling. "Don't get offended if I drop off on you after a long day."

"I'll try to keep it in mind."

~ ~ ~

As filming progressed, Tom and Jeremy learned the truth of what they'd discussed in the gym that first day. Tom felt an almost frenetic sense of energy during the filming of this particular movie. He loved Mission Impossible, of course - it held a special place in his heart as the first movie he'd ever produced, and Ethan was one of his most iconic roles. 

But Tom felt that there was more to it this time. Working with Brad was amazing, and helping to cultivate that confidence in him that he was perfectly capable of bringing off a live action movie with as much character and fun as any of his animated films meant a lot to him. And of course, working with Simon again was fun, and doing a movie with the sweet, funny and hard-working Paula Patton was incredible. Not to mention the many other cast members and crew that he was able to work with (some for the first time, and several joining him again from "Knight and Day" and other projects). 

All of this was wonderful, but Tom couldn't help feeling that there was more at work here. There was something energizing in having freed himself from the tensions that had trapped him before. He'd never _felt_ trapped. He'd felt successful - he'd felt the same kind of satisfaction that he had felt when he'd conquered his other problems. Now that he had reversed the process, and conquered his fear of that part of him that he thought he needed to destroy, he felt a kind of joy that he had never experienced before. He'd been wildly happy before, but this had a slightly different tone, or flavor. It was exciting, accepting every part of himself, and it was hard to contain that excitement.

As a result, he found himself working the day crew, and the night crew several times. As usual, he came to the set every single day, even if he'd been working the night crew, and he didn't have any scenes to film the next day. He provided encouragement to the assistant directors, took a look at the shots and praised the ones that were excellent. And he watched his fellow actors perform, and praised them for jobs well done, too. 

Most of Renner's scenes also involved Tom in some way. More than once, Tom caught Renner watching him during scene changes and camera re-sets, with a look somewhere between wonder and fear. Tom didn't understand the looks, and they would stop almost the moment his eyes caught Renner's, but they made his heart rate increase just a little. 

It wasn't until about two weeks into filming, when they were in the boat being given a ride back to shore after their underwater work, that Renner didn't break his gaze when Tom caught him looking like that. Tom smiled. "What is it?" he finally asked.

Jeremy looked ever so slightly guilty, but he didn't evade the question. "So... Rob was right, wasn't he?"

"Huh?"

"You _never_ sleep!"

Tom laughed incredulously. "I-"

"You were on the day crew!" he said in an accusatory tone. "Now you're down here drenching yourself and holding your breath, and floating flares out of cars and shit."

Tom couldn't contain his mirth at Renner's apparent indignation. "I slept!"

"When?" Renner asked. "When did you sleep?"

"This evening! I slept from five to eight, while the light was wrong for-"

"Oh _wow_. Three _whole_ hours, huh? And before-"

"Hey, I'm taking care of myself," Tom said defensively. "I wouldn't risk holding up production by getting sick or-"

"You're unbelievable, Tom!"

Tom stared at him, open mouthed. He could feel another defensive answer coming to his lips, but he stopped himself. He smiled suddenly and said, "Gee, Renner! I didn't know you cared so much."

"I-" Renner stopped, and the frustration seemed to erase itself from his face. He grinned and shook his head, then laughed. Tom joined him, and the two of them giggled all the way back to shore.


	5. Resting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom takes advantage of Jeremy's super power.

Tom's invigorated attitude seemed to only grow with time. He loved making movies, and he loved spending time with his friends. He soon discovered that Renner hadn't been joking when he said he could sleep anywhere, and at the drop of a hat. The first time he saw it happen, they'd wrapped a grueling day of filming in Dubai, and Tom had invited the principle cast, and the directors to dinner and drinks to wind down. 

Jeremy, apparently, didn't really need help winding down. He could barely keep his eyes open during dinner, and when a few people left and it was just Tom, Simon, Paula and Jeremy, the latter took advantage of the extra space. He stretched out on one side of the booth, mumbled "don't mind me", and was snoring in less than five seconds.

Tom and the others laughed about it, and that didn't even wake him. Neither did their conversation, which lasted for the next two hours. They tried to keep quiet at first, but before long they realized that the noise didn't seem to bother Renner, and they talked freely. He didn't wake up until Paula gave his arm a good shake and told him the place was closing. 

It was late at night, a few days after the third time Renner fell asleep on them, that Tom lost his mind completely. 

Jeremy was huddled into one side of their booth again, but Paula, Simon and Brad were almost as exhausted as he was. They bid Tom goodnight, and as they were leaving, Brad asked, "Do you want me to wake Sleeping Beauty here?"

"No, it's okay," Tom said lightly. He didn't *exactly* acknowledge it to himself in words, but there was a vague notion floating in the back of his head that he might like to be alone with Renner. "Let's let him sleep a little longer. I'll be here another thirty minutes or so, I want to think about tomorrow."

"Okay, Tom. We'll see you tomorrow." They left, and Tom watched them go with a small smile on his face. The waiter came by a moment later and offered him another drink. 

"I'm good, thanks. I just need a little quiet for about thirty minutes, and we'll be out of your hair."

"Please take your time, Mr. Cruise," the waiter said. He left, smiling at Renner, who was still dead to the world on the seat. 

When the waiter had gone, Tom made every attempt to think about tomorrow's shooting, and what kind of goals he'd like to bring up with Brad and the AD. But mostly, all he could think about was the exhausted man across from him. He wasn't exactly snoring, but Tom could hear the heavy, regular breathing that signified a deep slumber. He found himself edging over to the center of the circular booth, closer to Renner's side. 

Tom glanced down. Jeremy's head was only a few inches away from Tom's right hand. His sandy blonde hair looked soft and smooth in the warm light. Tom had a sudden, nearly overpowering urge to touch it. _Do NOT fucking do that,_ he told himself. And almost immediately, he reminded himself of what a heavy sleeper Renner was. It always took someone shaking him firmly, or calling him fairly loudly to wake him up. They'd even sat in a place long enough for the cleaners to come around with their vacuums, and he'd still stayed sleep. 

Tom looked furtively around the room, but there was no one near by. They were in a private booth, fairly secluded, and Tom had told the waiter he needed at least thirty minutes of quiet. Tom swallowed, and took a sip of water. His hands were sweating again, and this time he wasn't sure if he should try to quell the anxiety. This could be looked at as sexual harassment! Couldn't it? And what if Jeremy suddenly became a light sleeper, and woke up with Tom touching his head?? 

But the desire was still there, and he reasoned that it was a harmless thing. Touching someone's head wasn't that big a deal. People did it all the time, it was kind of a friendly thing. Paternal, even, although he knew he didn't have a single ounce of _paternal_ feelings for this man.

Tom watched, somewhere between terror and fascination, while his own hand reached out slowly toward Jeremy's head. He looked around him again, but no one was anywhere to be seen. In a few seconds more, his fingertips made contact with Jeremy's head. The hair was as soft as it looked, if not moreso. He let his fingers trail forward toward the front of Renner's head, until his palm rested fully on the crown. 

Jeremy never so much as shifted. He continued to breathe his heavy, slow breaths, and never stirred. Tom smiled, enjoying the warm, soft sensation under is hand. He sat extremely still, afraid to wake Jeremy and break the peaceful, comfortable moment. 

After about a minute, Jeremy did shift, and Tom snatched his hand back as quickly as if he'd been burned. Jeremy didn't actually wake up, but Tom felt like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His heart pounded, and he had to struggle to keep from outright panicking. He drained the rest of his last drink, waited for his hands to stop shaking, then tapped Jeremy firmly on his arm. 

"C'mon Jeremy, wake up," he said briskly. "Time to move."

There was a petulant groan from Jeremy, but he rolled, and sat up. A couple of seconds later, his eyes opened, and he looked around. "Where'd everybody go?"

"They were tired out," he said. "But they're not skilled like you."

Renner laughed, and rubbed his eyes. "I rode here with Brad."

"I'll take you back, man," he said. "C'mon, let's get you to a real bed."

They headed back to the hotel, and Tom saw that Jeremy was dropped back off at his door. Back in his own room, Tom had a quiet freak-out about what he had done. It kept him up for another hour, but in the end, he reasoned that he hadn't hurt anyone, and it just wasn't that big a deal. He didn't let himself regret the soft feeling of Jeremy's hair under his hand.

~ ~ ~

Tom managed to wind up alone with a sleeping Jeremy five more times - four of which ended with Tom in a position where he could touch Renner's hair without worrying about being caught. Any time that he knew he wouldn't be interrupted for a minimum of ten minutes, and he could be absolutely _certain_ there were no cameras around, he would reach out slowly, and gently rest his hand on Jeremy's head for a few seconds. It felt wonderful to him - a sweet, private moment where he could express his affection without being judged by anyone. 

Tom knew that he should probably just tell Jeremy how he felt and get permission to do this, but that seemed completely absurd. Jeremy would reject him, of course. He'd possibly try to fight him and/or sue him, and he would _definitely_ ask to be let out of the film, and Tom would have several SERIOUS fucking problems on his hands. This was innocent enough, and it was safe enough for now. 

The third time Tom was alone with Renner, they were in the back of a limo, being driven a fairly long distance for a Q&A with a panel from Dubai. That was the first time he'd gained the courage to actually _stroke_ Jeremy's hair, instead of just resting his hand lightly on the top of his head. He'd allowed himself about three gentle strokes before he stopped, nearly in a panic. But Jeremy had stayed asleep, and Tom had gained quite a bit of boldness from the experience. After that he always stroked Jeremy's head gently a few times, then let his hand rest there as long as he felt safe.

The fifth time Tom ended up alone with a sleeping Jeremy, they were at the same restaurant where this had all started, at yet another circular booth. Tom and Renner had already been sitting next to each other during dinner this time. Tom had stepped out to talk to Simon for a few minutes while the others headed back to their rooms. When he came back, Renner was curled up on the booth, fast asleep again. 

Tom smiled, and went back to his seat (or as close as he could get to it). After telling the waiter that he'd be making notes for about twenty to thirty minutes and he would want some privacy, Tom snuck his left hand down and touched Jeremy's head. When Jeremy didn't wake up, Tom began to stroke him slowly, looking around to be sure he was still completely alone. 

He'd done two gentle strokes when Jeremy shifted, and Tom quickly lifted his hand back to the table. Jeremy let out a moan, and shifted so that he was just a little bit closer to Tom, his head almost touching Tom's leg. Tom felt his heart starting to race, and he looked around again, considering slipping back out of the booth.

"Why'd you stop?"

Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked down in shock. Jeremy was looking up at him, his calm blue eyes staring sleepily at him. Tom's mouth dropped open, and he stared, completely frozen. "I..."

Jeremy blinked slowly at him, still sleepy, looking every bit like a lazy cat. "It feels nice. Keep doing it."

Tom continued to stare at him, feeling like he could hear his own blood rushing through his head. Jeremy closed his eyes, and scooted forward until his head was resting on Tom's lap. Tom gasped again, and finally found his voice. "Ren... wh... what if somebody sees us?"

Jeremy opened his eyes, and looked up at Tom again. He seemed thoughtful for a second. Then he closed his eyes, and relaxed - his head suddenly just a little bit heavier on Tom's leg. "Fuck 'em," he said. Tom let out a nervous laugh, part of him shocked by the casual attitude, but a much greater part of him plummeting head first, and ocean-deep in love at the sound of those two simple words. "And if you're worried," Jeremy said sleepily, "deny, deny, deny. I'll back you."

With another nervous laugh, Tom rested his hand on Jeremy's head again. After a few seconds, he started stroking. A moment later, Jeremy opened his eyes again, and looked at him once more. "It felt nice in the limo, too," he said.

Tom froze again, eyes wide, head spinning. "How... h-how long have you... when did..."

"Every time," he said. 

" _What?_ "

"If it started here two weeks ago, then every time." Tom forced himself to close his gaping mouth, and stared down at Jeremy. The other man was completely calm, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He slowly closed his eyes. 

Tom laughed again, this time most of his nervousness was gone. He stroked Renner's head gently, and when he felt the man settle down and fall asleep again, he picked up his pen with his free hand and started jotting down notes for the next day's shoot.


	6. Anxiety and Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jeremy make a decision.

Tom woke up in a panic. His heart pounded, and he was sweating from head to toe - so much his sheets were wet with it. He clenched his shaking hands into fists, willing himself to calm down. It didn't work. He squeezed his eyes shut, and immediately, images from his nightmare came back to him. 

It was one of those naked dreams. He'd managed to leave the house with only a towel around his waist. He'd gotten all the way to the studio, but somewhere between the parking lot and the studio, the towel had disappeared. At first, no one seemed to notice, even though Tom had been mortified as soon as he realized that he was naked. He kept trying to find something to cover himself, but every time he found a jacket, or a scarf, or towel, someone would snatch it away. 

Finally, people began to see that he was naked, and they ridiculed him, laughing, pointing, whispering to each other. Even though he couldn't hear them, he knew in the dream that they were disparaging his body, talking about how short and ugly he was, and how conceited he was to have come to work naked. A man who looked exactly like his father (but who Tom knew in the dream was supposed to be Greg Smrz) began shouting at him, "How DARE you come outside like that??", shoving him, and getting in his face. Tom looked around for help, and saw Jeremy, but he was reading a book and never looked up, even when Tom called him.

Tom had been awakened by the intense feelings of shame and fear, and they hadn't subsided yet. He left the damp bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He shut the door, and left the light off. He avoided the mirror, not wanting to face even himself just then. He turned on the water, waited for a few moments, still shaking slightly. When the water was the right temperature, Tom pulled off his sweats and briefs, hesitating slightly, almost as if he expected someone to come out of the shadows to shout at him. 

He let the hot water pound him, trying to wake up more fully, and force himself out of the half-sleepy haze that always made particularly uncomfortable dreams seem all the more real. But as he came more fully awake, the reality of things seemed to hit him even more strongly. Of course, he wouldn't go to work literally naked, but the symbolism of the dream was obvious. On some level, he was petrified of being exposed as queer, and apparently some part of him was afraid that Jeremy would abandon him to his fate if he _was_ exposed.

He still felt sick when he finally forced himself to get out of the shower, but he at least felt as if he could function well enough to get to work. He got dressed quickly and called his security detail to let them know he was ready to leave. Getting out of the hotel required the usual amount of finesse - wait for his assistant to call the car, wait for Jim and his other security man to pick him up from the room, move quickly and with as little fuss as possible, through the hotel and try to get to the car before anyone noticed he was leaving.

Tom managed to get out without having to stop, although he did see a few heads turn sharply toward him when they were in the lobby. He knew that the next day he might not have such an easy time getting out, but he would deal with that when the time came. Right now, his greatest concern was getting to the set, and getting through the day without making a fool of himself, and without holding production up.

He was greeted warmly by the crew, and he replied with a warmth that wasn't entirely forced. He was happy to be back at work, happy to be able to wipe away at least some of the nightmarish aspects of the dream. 

Tom was a little concerned about the shooting today. He was working closely with Jeremy again, and today's scenes were going to be very physical. On the one hand, the physical activity might help to take his mind off his awful dream. On the other hand, it meant everyone focusing on his body, and it meant _him_ having to focus on what Renner was doing (not to mention the stunt men they'd be working with). After the night he'd had, he wasn't sure he was up for a full day of close quarters, heavy physicality with Renner.

God. That had sounded just plain wrong, anyway. He shook himself. He was just going to have to suck it up and fucking deal with it.

"Tom?" Tom jumped, and Brad looked surprised. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Tom shook his head. "It's okay, it's my fault. I was distracted."

"You feel okay?" he asked. "Never thought I'd say this, but you look a little tired."

"I'm okay," Tom answered. "Just fine." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "So how do you want to tackle it?" he asked. 

Brad gave him a smile, but Tom could see that he was still concerned. "I think we need to do a little more rehearsal on this, just to get it as smooth as possible. I planned on having the cameras do some background shots while we get it down, then we can bring the cameras in. How does that sound to you?"

"Whatever you say, you're the boss," Tom answered. 

Brad laughed, as he always did when Tom said that. "Right, I'll get the camera guys going. I'll meet you in Sabine's room."

"Yup." 

Tom headed to the appropriate hotel room, and after a few moments, someone from Wardrobe brought him Ethan's costume for this scene - the pale blue, shimmery suit with button-down shirt. "Mr. Bird said that he'd like to start in the costumes," the wardrobe assistant said. "He said it would be better to get used to making the movements in the dress clothes now."

"That's fine," Tom answered. 

"You can change in here, sir," the young woman said. She led him to the bedroom of the same hotel suite, and slid open the door. "I'll wait here so you're not disturbed."

"Thank you," he said, stepping into the room. She slid the door shut for him, and Tom pulled off his semi-casual button down. He could have laughed at himself - he felt nervous about undressing here. The girl from wardrobe would warn anyone that came by that the room was of limits, but it didn't matter. What if someone burst through regardless of her warning? What if she got called away and forgot to tell him?

As wildly unlikely as those scenarios were, Tom couldn't help looking toward the door several times during his hasty re-dress. But nothing happened, and he dressed without interruption. He folded his own clothes neatly on the bed and peeked out of the bedroom. The girl from wardrobe was still there, and she smiled when he looked out. "I just left my clothes on the bed, is that..."

"That's fine, sir," she answered. "No one will bother them there."

"Great." He stepped out, but no one else was around except the few lighting techs and other crew members. Tom decided to use the time to do a quick warm-up. He picked a spot out of the way of the furniture and any wires or other of the film crew apparatus, and started to do a few simple stretches. 

Within a few minutes, the stunt guys who were part of the scene arrived and joined him in his stretches. Brad and Renner came in shortly after. Tom felt his stomach tighten the moment he saw Jeremy. _God, not now,_ he thought. He felt his body tensing, but he didn't have time for a full "session" of redirecting his own thoughts. He bounced on his toes and stretched his arms to try to loosen up his tensing muscles. It wouldn't do to be tight right before a fight scene. He couldn't afford to pull any muscles right now. 

Brad was explaining something to Jeremy, so he was focused on the director, but he paused for a moment to give Tom a quick smile and a nod. And like a fucking teenager, Tom began to analyzing the motion. What did that mean? Should he be pleased that Jeremy had broken his focus on Brad to acknowledge him? His smile had been brief, did that meant it had also been perfunctory? Just a basic courtesy from one colleague to another? Maybe that was all it had been when he let Tom stroke his head, too. Maybe he had just let it happen because Tom wanted it and it felt nice, but there was no real affection behind it. 

_Stop!_ he told himself. He was being ridiculous. What happened at the restaurant had no bearing on what he had to do now, which was focus on the film making process. This was not the time to get distracted, not when there would be tables flying around, and even a slight distraction could lead to someone being seriously injured. 

He kept that in mind as best he could, while Brad finished his last minute instructions to Jeremy. After a moment, Jeremy nodded and stepped away, toward the same bedroom area where Tom had changed his clothes. Tom watched while the same wardrobe worker offered him Brandt's clothing, and gestured toward the room.

Tom felt his heart starting to race. Jeremy was about to get undressed in the same room where Tom had so recently disrobed. "Hey, Tom?"

Tom jumped, and Brad looked apologetic again. "I keep getting you, don't I?"

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "Not sure what's going on with me today, but I'll get myself together."

Brad gave him a slight frown. "You sure you're okay?

Tom nodded immediately. "I'm good, I'm fine. What's up?"

"Okay," he said with a hesitant smile. "I just wanted to go over the sequence with you one more time. You'll be working mostly with Andrei, so I figured we can start just running through the sequences until we get it good and tight."

"Okay, let's do it."

And the complex dance that was film-fighting began. Andrei and Ivan were good guys, very professional and excellent at stunt fighting. The rehearsal went well, and Tom was pleased with how quickly they learned the moves, and got their rhythms synced with one another. 

He'd been worried about paying too much attention to Renner's body while they worked on the scene, but the activity actually did him good. He was so focused on getting his moves correct and not slamming Andrei in the face with a table, that he didn't have time to worry about his feelings, or how Renner looked when he was exerting himself, or whether that look he gave him was sexual or not. Everything went so well that Brad decided to call Leah in (she was rehearsing with Jane in another replica of the same room). They managed to take some great shots of the actual scene.

When they finally finished, all four of them were sweaty, and exhausted. Tom felt a curious sense of simultaneous exultation - the feeling he usually got when he'd done something well. Leah was sent back to her day's training, and the four men were told that they could change and clean up if they wanted. Andrei and Ivan headed to separate rooms, where the hot water worked, and they would be able to take a shower. Tom was not about to take a shower on set today, no matter how grimy he felt. He'd barely been able to shower in his own _dark_ hotel room this morning. Still, he needed to give Ethan's clothes back to Wardrobe to be cleaned, so he made his way to the room where he'd left his own outfit.

On the way back to the room, he nearly ran into Jeremy, who was headed to the same place. Jeremy smiled at him. "Oh, I thought that shirt looked familiar," he said.

"Huh?"

"The shirt in there on the bed. I thought I recognized it. Guess I should have known it was yours."

Tom just gave him a smile. "Looks like we have a little problem," he said. "You go ahead."

Renner shook his head. "No, no, you go. I don't have anything else scheduled until after dark. Don't you have to do climbing today?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I won't be doing that for a few days. You can-"

"Nah, I'll wait," he said. "I know how your days go, you'll get called for something any second. Go ahead, I'll hang out here until you're done. And..." He looked uncertain suddenly, and Tom raised his eyebrows. "If you really aren't busy for the afternoon, maybe we can talk?"

The tension was back instantly, but Tom fought to hide it. He smiled and nodded. "Sure. I think we should."

Tom stepped into the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Getting undressed now was a hundred times worse than it had been before. Then, there had been a nondescript Wardrobe tech standing guard. Now, it was _Jeremy_. Jeremy was standing just outside the door, a few feet away. _Shit!_

Tom held it together as best he could. He pulled off the sweaty jacket and suit shirt, and used the small bathroom at the back of the suite to refresh just a little. He splashed the icy water onto his face and chest and toweled off. Then he got quickly back into his regular clothes. 

While he was laying out Ethan's suit, he noticed Jeremy's clothing tucked up near the pillow on the large bed. Briefly, he wondered if that was where Jeremy would normally put his clothes if he didn't plan to wash them right away. He wondered if he had people to wash his clothes for him, or if he was still close enough to that down-to-earth guy that slept in derelict houses while he worked on renovating them, and brushed his teeth in Starbucks every morning, that he would wash his own clothes at home, or take them to the cleaners himself.

Tom shook himself, and tried to shove away these dangerous thoughts. Thinking about Renner doing domestic things like gathering and sorting laundry, or dropping something off at the cleaners seemed too... personal somehow. Too much like daydreaming, too easy to imagine himself inserted into that quaint little pattern. 

But of course, it was too late. Tom had already lived about three months in his mind, settling into a pleasant routine of helping Renner with chores, maybe driving a sledge hammer into a few walls to help with renovations. Saying hello at the end of a long day of filming, then driving around getting a casual cup of coffee, or a bite to eat, with Jim nearby to keep the crowds away (apparently, he couldn’t even daydream anymore, without worrying about the paps and the public). 

Suddenly, probably from that barest hint of a thought about the press, Tom felt his stomach lurch violently. _Shit!_ He bent forward, barely managing to face away from the bed before his minuscule breakfast ejected itself. _Fuck!_ That had been sort of loud. _Continued_ to be sort of loud. 

As he feared, a moment later, he could hear someone tapping on the door. "Tom?"

 _Fucking shit-fuck fucking **fuck**!!_ He tried to call out to Jeremy that he was okay, but he wretched again instead. The door opened, and he swore again. 

"Shit! You need the medic?" Renner's voice was strident with his concern, but it (blessedly) wasn't loud.

Tom waved a hand, shaking his head vigorously. "It's... okay," he said tersely. "I'm... I don't want-"

Jeremy shut the door, and Tom heard his terse whisper, "How do you lock this fucking- oh." There was a click, and the sound of his quick footsteps.

After a few short seconds, Tom felt Renner's hand on the back of his neck. "Okay," Jeremy said, his voice calmer now. "You'll be okay."

Inexplicably, Tom started to relax. It didn't make much sense, since his feelings about Jeremy were the reason he was throwing up. But the calm reality of Jeremy's hand on his neck seemed to ground him, and pull him out of the dark fears that could apparently take hold of his body without his even focusing on them.

Whatever the reason, Tom felt intense relief when his body stopped pulsing, struggling to rid itself of something that wasn't there. He took a few deep breaths, and forced himself to stand up. "You okay?" Jeremy asked worriedly. Tom nodded. "Jesus *Christ*, Tom! Are you getting sick? What happened?"

"I..." Tom struggled to find something that would make sense. How could he possibly say, "Well, I was daydreaming about living with you, and I had an attack of nerves"? Yeah, that seemed like it would go over REALLY well. "M-maybe I just overdid it while we were shooting."

Jeremy looked at him like his explanation was the ridiculous fabrication that it was. "You weren't... we've done a lot more than that before, and you didn't have this issue. Are you getting sick, Tom? Seriously, if you need to take a break, you should take one."

"It's not that," Tom told him. "And even if I was coming down with something, I can't afford to stop production for that."

"Tom, come _on_ , your health comes first," he said urgently. "Now let me call Ahmed, he can at least have a look at you."

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't _need_ him," he said. "I..." Tom looked at Renner's deeply concerned face - his furrowed brow, and his troubled eyes - and he was tempted to just confess everything to him. Maybe he should just fucking say it. "I'm attracted to you, and I can't fucking handle it." Yeah. Right. "So please don't sue me, and don't leave the set, and don't hate me, and we'll just go on as we have been, except that you will probably despise me on the inside and be doing your best to hide it until you can finally get away from me."

No. No, maybe that wasn't the best idea after all. "I... I just didn't get enough rest last night," he said at last. 

Renner shook his head. " _No_ , Tom," he said. "I'm sorry, but... not to just call you a liar to your face, but if lack of sleep made you throw up, you'd be puking your guts out every single day on set. You _never_ sleep, and you've never reacted like this before."

Tom stared at him, not sure what to say to that. It was true of course. Even a nightmare and hardly any sleep at all last night wouldn't really have caused him this kind of distress. "It's... complicated," Tom answered finally. "I..." Renner looked at him, not exactly with impatience, but definitely waiting for him to elaborate. "It's kind of an... anxiety thing. Just an attack of nerves. I guess I was concerned about today's shoot, and-"

"Wait a minute," Renner said suddenly. "Tom, are... were you worried because of..." Tom could feel the blood literally draining from his face. He felt certain that Renner must be able to read everything on his face. Every single fear, every wistful imagining, every bit of longing to be accepted, and to accept himself. He felt like it all must be written as plainly as a freeway sign right across his face. 

Jeremy seemed to falter. He looked down, and Tom felt his stomach clenching yet again. He felt as naked as if the dream had become a reality. _God. Here it comes._. And what was coming, he didn't even know. He just knew that it would be horrible, whatever it was. 

But it didn't come. Not yet. Renner looked up, and said, "Listen, I"m going to get some..." Then he walked away without finishing his sentence, and came back with a few damp hand towels. He crouched down on the floor, and Tom sprang to his feet. 

"No, Jeremy, I can't let you do that," he said.

Jeremy looked up at him, with a sideways smile on his face. "Well, I'm _doing_ it," he said. 

Tom dropped to his knees next to Renner and took the towels from him, absolutely mortified. He cleaned up the mess, waving Renner's hands away when he tried to help. Jeremy left again briefly, and came back with a trash can for him to toss the towels into. Tom thanked him, and took the can into the bathroom. There wasn't any hot water so he couldn't even soak them. In the end, he just set the whole thing in the tub and closed the door on the embarrassing mess. 

When Tom turned back to the room, Renner was still standing beside the bed, looking seriously at him. Tom approached the bed slowly, and Jeremy continued to watch him. Tom couldn't keep from feeling like he was being judged. 

When Tom reached the bed, Jeremy took a breath and looked down for a few moments. Finally, he looked up again, and said, "Listen. I'm not sure what's going through your head right now. But I think we should get it out in the open right now. Don't you?"

"Sure," Tom said, speaking fast enough to outrun his own common sense. 

Jeremy looked quizzically at him for a moment, then gestured toward the bed. "Wanna sit down?"

"Sure," he said again. He took a seat, leaving a healthy amount of space between them, without seeming like he was actively avoiding his friend. 

"So. Tom. Um..." Jeremy chuckled, and looked over at Tom. "So gung ho to talk, but now I don't know what the fuck I want to say." 

Tom chuckled this time. "Guess I can't say I blame you." They sat in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry," Tom said at last. Jeremy looked at him questioningly. "Sorry I've been acting so weird - putting you in this... weird position."

"No, Tom," he said, shaking his head. "You don't have anything to apologize for." Tom frowned, but Jeremy continued before he could object. "Listen, you're not putting me in any position that I don't already want to be in." Tom gave an almost comical gasp, and his eyes widened. Jeremy laughed. "Tom, I..." He blushed, and glanced away for a moment. He shook his head again. "I... I have a huge crush on you," he said.

"*What*?"

Jeremy looked back at him, smiling again. "Why are you so surprised? I mean... you're... *YOU*."

Tom stared. "Yyyeah, I'm *me*, but... what does that even mean these days?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, I'm a step away from pariah status lately. Ever since-"

"Oh, I don't give a fuck about that shit," Renner said with a wave of his hand. "If I ran away from every person who'd ever said or done something they might regret... well, I'd spend my whole life running." Tom laughed, and Jeremy grinned at him. He tilted his head, and his smile seemed shy suddenly. "And I'm not _you_ , so I can't handle that," he said. 

Tom gaped at him for a second, and Renner's smile started to fade. Then Tom laughed uproariously, throwing his head back and slapping his knee in outright glee. Jeremy laughed with him, and they spent the next several minutes just giggling at each other. 

When they finally calmed down, Tom just sat watching Renner - looking at his slightly flushed cheeks, and the little smile still playing at the edge of his lips. "I... I guess I thought... you're so... I just never thought you were..."

"Gay?" he asked. Tom flinched ever so slightly from the directness of the question, but he nodded. Jeremy shrugged. "I get that a lot, but I also get a lot of people accusing me of being gay." He shrugged. "Sometimes rumors are true, and the paparazzi actually get it right. To be honest, though, you get accused of it more than I do."

Tom sighed. "Yeah. And that's after I've spent years living a completely straight laced life." He shook his head. "But sometimes I think it's a tall poppy thing, more than something anyone actually believes about me."

"Tall poppy thing?" Renner asked. 

Tom felt himself blushing. "I'm going to sound so conceited. But whatever, I'm going to say it anyway. Chris McQuarrie said it to me once, while we were working on 'Valkyrie' and we were getting all that negative press. He said that when people see a field of poppies, and one stands taller than the rest, their instinct is to cut it down."

Jeremy smiled and nodded. "I agree with him," he said. "I think you've been a victim of that instinct for decades actually."

"Maybe," Tom said. "I've been fortunate, too, in many ways." Jeremy nodded again, and Tom was silent for a few seconds. "You're not out," Tom said.

Jeremy shook his head. "Not really. The action star thing... I'm sure you've thought about it."

"Every day since lunch," Tom said.

Jeremy looked surprised. "Since lunch? Since..."

"Since our general meeting with Brad," Tom said with a nod. 

"Right."

"That, and how much time and energy I've spent trying to prove I'm _not_..." He couldn't say the word as freely as Jeremy had. "Not just to the outside world, but to myself, too." He turned away, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry, it... probably sounds awful to you if you've been okay with yourself all this time, and here I am talking about how I've tried to crush it for years." 

Jeremy moved closer to Tom on the bed, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. You don't owe me any apologies, Tom," he said softly. "It's not like... this is _your_ life. I'm not... I'm nobody's poster boy for gay activism here. And anybody who tells you they have _never_ hid from anyone _ever_ is either lying, or living a charmed life. Or they're dead, in all honesty." Tom looked up at him with a sharp intake of breath, and Jeremy gave him a look that seemed to say "sad but true". "Everybody lives in their own skin, and we do what we have to do to survive. Whatever's got you to this point... it's nothing to be ashamed of, Tom."

Tom took a deep breath, and he could feel his throat tightening. He nodded, not trusting his voice just then. "And..." Jeremy squeezed his shoulder. "And wherever you decide to go from here... that's nothing to be ashamed of either. I'll... I'm willing to follow your lead."

Tom could feel his eyes starting to mist. His instinct was to hide, turn away from Jeremy and pull himself together. But he forced himself to keep his eyes on Renner. "I'm... honored," he said. "I... I can't believe you're willing to trust me with this, when I'm..." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm a _mess_ at this. Look at me, I had a meltdown just now. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you noticed me touching your hair. I'm just..."

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. "You're so... _you_ ," he said.

"What's that mean this time?" Tom asked. 

"You're so focused, so... A plus _plus_. No matter what you do, you have to do it a hundred and thirty-five percent, don't you?" Tom stared at him, speechless. "You don't have to be an expert at... being gay, or bi, or whatever for me to trust you. I trust you because I _know_ you. I know you well enough, anyway. I guess that part of you is one of the reasons I trust you so much. I know that whatever you decide to do, you're going to weigh all the options and make the very best decision that you can." He smiled briefly, then looked seriously at Tom. "But really, the biggest reason I'm going to leave this to you is because you have a lot more to lose."

Tom shook his head. "I don't know about that," he said. "You're a fast-rising star, and-"

"And you're a _legend_ ," Jeremy said. "And one of the things that's part of your whole mythos is that - like you said - you've spent a lot of time working to convince people that you aren't queer. But I'm not just talking about your career or the public eye. You're married. I don't know if... well, I have no idea what kind of arrangements you've made, but if it comes out and you end up divorcing it could cost you a lot. And you've got three kids, too, it could have an effect on them." 

Tom could feel himself sinking under the weight of what Jeremy was saying. It was all perfectly true, and such thoughts had been floating through his mind like a hive of bees, making him feel frantic, but never really coming into focus. It was almost shocking to hear each point brought out so clearly by someone else.

"Hey," Jeremy said, squeezing his shoulder again. "Don't panic," he said softly. "All I'm trying to say is, I'll go with whatever you decide. Even if that means you say we can't be together. Because I understand, you have a lot of shit to deal with, and if I held it against you it would make me a complete asshole." He smiled, and Tom allowed himself a little chuckle. "And if you decide you want to have... more, then I'll take whatever you give me."

Tom gasped, feeling pierced to the core by Jeremy's choice of words. All day, he'd been worrying about being exposed - having his feelings, his insecurities, his _nature_ laid bare to the world. He'd been terrified of being ridiculed and judged - revealed as a hypocrite and a fraud. And now, the awful moment had come - he'd been revealed to the person he'd thought might despise him the most - and not only was he treated with caring, but Jeremy had laid _himself_ bare to Tom. He'd put all his feelings right there, face up on the table, and he had told Tom in a very matter-of-fact way to do whatever he wanted to with them. Talk about vulnerability. Talk about _trust_.

Tom again felt honored and humbled to be entrusted with this moment. He didn't need the reassurance in the back of his mind that everything would work out for the best no matter what. He didn't need the look on Jeremy's face - that serious, expectant, and now slightly worried look that he could tell Jeremy was trying his best to make look even and unconcerned. He didn't even need the warm, smooth sense of _rightness_ that he felt when he thought about being with Renner now. The decision had been made at the instant Jeremy said those beautiful words, "I'll take whatever you give me." 

Tom smiled and raised his arm, slowly reaching for Jeremy's face. He touched his cheek, then let his hand move up, and ran his fingers over Renner's cropped hair. Jeremy let his eyes close, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Even though the action spoke for itself, Tom wanted to say it aloud - to make it _real_ , and valid, and to drive away any thought of shame.

"I want more," he said.


End file.
